


The Queen's Army

by LastKnight3219



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastKnight3219/pseuds/LastKnight3219
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- Emma born in Enchanted Forrest looking for work</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For or Against

**Author's Note:**

> i own nothing

For or Against

 

Emma had no idea what else to do. In this kingdom, one either worked for the Evil Queen or, if you were foolish, against her.

Already having tried farming (picking & weeding crops by hand-hated it), bar maid (not bad except for the pinchy grabby hands), cleaning (not in vocabulary, it turns out), herding cattle (cows are STUPID ), assistant Black Smith (turns out all you do is make fire and work the bellows-in a word HOT), and stable boy (horses, now horses are cool. Sleeping next to the manure pile-not so much), it was time to try another line of work.

This opportunity came with food and lodging, so-what the hell. No one seemed to care that she was a female, anyone could try to be in the Queen’s Army.

The first day was a joke. The twenty or so ‘volunteers’ were separated into groups of four and sent around to different stations on the training field. The three men Emma was stuck with were pitiful at everything. At the first station, they were told to hunt through a pile of used, broken and bloody gear to find some that fit and then put it on. Seemed a simple thing to do. Emma found a mostly intact padded leather tunic (someone lost an arm) which she put on under some chain mail, two leather arm bracers (mismatched), two leather greaves (also mismatched) and leather pauldrons (someone lost the other arm). When she was finished dressing the men were still half-heartedly pawing at the pile, which did not impress the gruff soldier who “helped” them find gear by yelling at them. Once all four were ready, they were told to “Run to the next station at the other end of the field”. One of the men did not wait to hear all of the instructions and took off like a shot arrow. The remaining three were told to run a lap first before reporting to the station.

Running second nature for Emma, who was often late and therefore had to run, so despite the weight of leather and mail, she set off at a good, steady clip. The two men apparently decided to race each other and were soon far ahead. Unconcerned, Emma continued on. Halfway around the lap, Emma passed one man who stopped to vomit. Three quarters around and Emma was steadily gaining on the other. Not altering her pace, Emma continued on. Finishing the lap, Emma passed the second man who tried to keep up with her. He did, for a bit, then began losing ground.

Emma arrived at the second station sweaty but ready for whatever task awaited. The man who did not wait was standing holding five wooden beams, or rather, trying to stand, as they were not stacked evenly. He wobbled around quite a bit. The solider here just stood, waiting and watching, so Emma did the same.

Eventually, the other two men arrived, both red faced and out of breath. The idiot who didn’t listen to instructions was told to drop all but one of the timbers and to go run his lap. The look of horror on his face was priceless, but Emma knew not to laugh aloud. The other two idiots did not. They got to pick up a timber and go run as well. Once the men were off, the soldier told Emma to pick a wooden sword gesturing to the makeshift wall where they were displayed. Emma knew not to pick the longest one. Her time at the Black Smith taught her that longer meant heavier as arms grew tired. Choosing a medium sized one, Emma stood relaxed but ready.

The soldier screamed a battle cry and attacked. Emma had watched the soldiers from time to time, mostly when in-between jobs, and when frustrated with the general unluckiness of her life, would attack trees with a sorta sword shaped stick. Granted, this soldier moved a lot more than a tree and was certainly louder, but it became apparent that he was probing for weakness not for a quick kill.  They sparred for some time before Emma managed to trip the soldier, landing him on his back, his breath knocked from his lungs. Not wanting to press her advantage, Emma stepped back, waiting for the soldier to rise. This was a mistake. As soon as the soldier did regain his footing the tempo of the sparring increased dramatically. Emma wondered if it was because she was a woman or whether this was the regular routine when a particularly heavy blow rebounded off the pauldron and stuck Emma on the side of her jaw. Knowing she was bleeding Emma mentally shrugged it off and kept her eyes on her foe. The blood flow should have stopped the sparring but the soldier continued, looking for an opening. Emma parried and remembered the two timbers left on the ground. Moving around to position the soldier, Emma attacked. His quick retreat tangled his feet with the timbers and down he went again. This time Emma took the ‘killing’ blow. An outraged cry followed, the soldier’s face contorted as jumped up, drawing a dagger. It was then that Emma realized they were no longer alone at the station. A man dressed in all black drew his sword, the tip at the soldier’s throat drawing a bead of blood.

“You were beaten fairly, twice. Drop the dagger or pay the penalty for your cowardice.” The commanding tone held no room for negotiation.

The dagger was dropped, but it was obvious by the sneer that the soldier was not contrite.

The man in black did not sheath his sword nor move it from the soldier’s neck. “Your rank and privileges are hereby revoked. Pick up the two timbers and run three laps. That should give you plenty of time to re-think your actions. Upon completion, you will report to your superior.”

“Yes, Captain.” The soldier ground out through clenched teeth then turned to pick up the timbers. A horseman, similarly clad all in black, urged his mount into a trot to follow the soldier.

Only when both had moved off did the man sheath his sword. Bending over and picking up the dagger, he held it by the point offering the handle to Emma. “You have earned ownership of this dagger.”

Emma had barely touched the handle when the man in black abruptly turned, walking quickly away. “Thank you, Captain.”

Emma was admiring her new dagger when several soldiers approached, surrounding her. Apprehensive, Emma readied the wooden sword. Without a word, one reached into a leather pouch, pulling a cloth out slowly “May I?” and miming cleaning the wound. It was only then that Emma acknowledged the pain, both from her shoulder and the flayed skin along her jaw. Turning her head to assess the damage to the gear, Emma was surprised at the amount of blood coating her left shoulder and chest. With a nod, she turned her head as far to the right as she could so the soldier could clean away the blood and check the wound. Another soldier gently took the wooden sword from Emma’s hand, returning it and the one left on the ground to the display. A third provided a cup of water for Emma to drink, while another leaned over the shoulder of the soldier cleaning the wound. His eyes widened before he turned and jogged away.

Emma just stood there, dumbstruck. This could hardly be the norm for an injury to a ‘volunteer’. These men were treating her with something akin to awe, which was decidedly odd. Wounds to soldiers were a routine risk.

The wide eyed soldier returned with yet another person in tow. This new one, in flowing black and red hooded robes, took one look at Emma’s wound and then took her hand. Shocked into hand holding with this stranger, Emma realized this was a healer. The current flowing from this person’s hand into hers went up her left arm, shoulder and to her neck. Minutes or hours later, the healer squeezed Emma’s hand, released their hold and walked away.

Rolling her neck, rotating her shoulder Emma felt good, or better, than new. This cannot be the standard for ‘volunteers’. No way would any King or Queen bestow such care on a lowly peasant.

One soldier motioned for Emma to go to the next station.

Nodding, Emma walked towards the station, hoping it would be the last of the day.

During the walk, Emma briefly wondered what had happened to the three idiots she had been grouped with, then decided that she had enough on her plate to worry/wonder about without adding more.

The next station turned out to be horses. Emma smiled to herself hoping it would be as easy as running.

Arriving at the station, Emma was greeted with a smile from the soldier waiting. Yet another odd happening. Nodding her head in acknowledgement, Emma waited for instructions.

“You will saddle a horse for me.”

Okay, easy enough. Passing the table of bridles, blankets, and saddles, Emma approached the horses tethered to stakes in the ground, they seemed docile enough, eyeing the new comer. Since she wasn’t told which horse to saddle, Emma began murmuring gently to the first horse, offering her hand for smelling and patting the muzzle. Getting a nicker, Emma began running her hands up to the forelock, scratching ears, over to the withers then down to the front leg to check the hoof. Repeating for all four hoofs. Checking the flanks. Deeming the horse to be healthy, Emma turns to walk back to the table to pick a bridle.

“Okay, you know about horses. You may go to the farthest end” the soldier pointing now “and have some lunch.”

Nodding her thanks, Emma walks off.


	2. Mid-Day Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Emma is born in the Enchanted Forrest and is looking for a job

The Queen’s Army

Chapter 2

Mid-Day Meal

 

While Emma was walking to the horse station, the man dressed all in black who had been addressed as ‘Captain’ strode purposely across the field, mounted a horse and galloped towards the castle.

Leaving the horse with one of the guards by the front garden, the Captain made his way inside to the throne room. Skirting around the perimeter to approach the dais from the side, he waited for the Queen to signal before approaching.

Bowing deeply then ascending the two steps to the throne level, he leans over to whisper his report to the Queen.

Arching an eyebrow, the Queen murmurs instructions.

Bowing deeply again, the Captain backs way, down the steps before turning to a page and issuing commands.

* * *

After walking for a while, Emma sees people moving about under a copse of trees. Getting nearer there are several long tables, some occupied by soldiers sitting on benches, some empty and one with soldiers standing behind it. This must be where the mid-day meal is being served. Observing the activity, it became clear that there is a line to pick up food. Waiting her turn, Emma is pleasantly surprised that lunch turns out to be a thick stew and a hunk of bread, washed down with water. There were five or six men dressed like herself in mismatched, bloody gear but the rest were all soldiers in various colors of garb. Not knowing how long she had Emma picked a tree, sat down leaning against the trunk and began to eat while watching what was going on around her.

While the stew was delicious and the bread fresh, what she really wanted was more water. Empty bowl and cup in hand, Emma put the bowl in the barrel where everyone else did and hesitantly walked back over to the meal line. She noticed that no one went back for seconds and fervently hoped that asking for more water would not get her into trouble.

“Excuse me, sir, may I have some more water?”  A nod was all she got. Relieved but not showing it, Emma ladled herself a cup full and retreats back to her tree.

“All recruits over here!” A soldier yells. Emma quickly adds her cup to the barrel of dirty dishes and waits near the soldier. The other recruits join them but are quickly reprimanded “You lazy bastards- go clean up after yourselves!” Gesturing to Emma to follow, the soldier walks off.

Six men soon catch up and the soldier breaks into a jog.  An archery course with targets on compacted hay comes into view.  The group comes to a halt by a table with bows and quivers of arrows. As Emma is glancing over the bows and trying to gauge the distance to the targets she sees dark, fast moving, low to the ground shapes coming towards the table. A pack of dogs, maybe? The other men are looking at the bows but the soldier is watching the shapes. He doesn’t seem concerned, just aware of them coming closer, so Emma keeps one eye on them while still checking out the course. Those are not dogs. Bigger. Faster. And almost here already. The other men finally notice, a few taking steps backwards. They are wolves. There are seven of them and each one comes to a halt looking at the recruits. The one in front of Emma is beautiful, all black with intelligent golden eyes that seem to be appraising her. The soldier is just watching the recruits. Never having been this close to a wolf, Emma isn’t certain what, if anything, she is supposed to do but ignoring the animal would be rude. Deciding to introduce herself, Emma slowly extends a hand for the wolf to sniff.

“Hey there. You are very pretty. Or handsome, as the case may be. My name is Emma, glad to meet you.”

Emma hears snickers as she is addressing the wolf. The two laughing boys do not laugh long as the wolves in front of them start to growl, showing pointed teeth.

“Okay, now that the wolves have joined us, pick a bow and a quiver. You there” pointing at one of the men “go first. One shot per target.”

Emma picks up a bow and quiver noticing that the arrows each have a ribbon tied to it in front of the fletching. Her color is black. Testing the string she is happy with the tautness.

The first man is okay at close distances but terrible at the longer ones and totally misses the last target. The next man starts to fire. Emma loses interest immediately when he shoots the ground two paces out. The third man is next. He doesn’t even know how to draw the arrow back properly and pokes himself in the eye. Watching the next man, Emma feels warm weight against her leg. Looking around, the other wolves are nearer to her than the other recruits. It would seem her way with horses extends to wolves as well.

Taking her turn, Emma smoothly and quickly fires off her arrows, hitting all of the targets in the middle ring. Stepping back to wait while the rest of the group shoots, Emma absentmindedly fiddles with an arrow adjusting the fletching.  

“Leave the bow and quiver on the table and wait” the soldier ordered after the last man finished. Strangely the soldier _and_ the wolves go retrieve the arrows from the course. Stranger still, as they make their way back to the table Emma is sure the solider is having a conversation with the wolves.

“You all are all finished here. Follow the wolf to your next station.” Six wolves lope off in the same direction with the men running to follow.

Okaay…follow the wolf. Weird. “After you.” Expecting to head off in the same direction as the others, Emma is puzzled when ‘her’ wolf starts walking in the opposite direction. “Ummm, you sure I’m supposed to go this way?”

The wolf glanced up and nodded.

THE WOLF NODDED!  I’m dead. I died when that soldier hit me in the neck! Yeah, that’s it. Or I’m unconscious or dreaming or my brain got scrambled or something. I’m really on the ground holding a wooden sword. Seems much more reasonable than a healer for a peasant, awed soldiers, good food and nodding wolves. Well. I wonder how long this…this will go on. Could be fun.

“Since I am crazy or something, should I be concerned that we are getting close to the castle?” This time the wolf stopped, raised a paw and patted Emma’s knee. Sort of a calm down/you’re not crazy/I got you touch.

“You do know this is really weird, right?” Never knew wolves could do an eye roll. Yep, I’m dead.

Off walks the wolf and Emma follows.

And we are in fact going to go into the castle. I’m bloody, sweaty, probably dirty as well, dressed like a practice dummy and following a wolf. And dead. Or crazy. Or something. No problem. I’ve got this.

The guards stationed at the front garden don’t stop us. Or me…maybe the wolf isn’t really here, I just think it is. And we are in the main entryway. Turning to the right. Good thing the imaginary wolf knows where we are going. More turns. Up a staircase. No one we are passing says anything. Not about a wolf in the castle. Nothing about a crazy blonde woman halfway covered in blood wandering around. Not the staff, not the guards. Just keeps getting better. Maybe crazy is good. Got me in the castle, through the front doors. I suppose we _could_ be headed to the dungeons…

Emma’s distracted musings about her sanity make her walk right past the wolf, who has stopped at a door. The guard in the hallway instantly blocks her path “Follow the wolf or pay the consequences.”

“Sorry” Emma mutters to the guard and quickly turns around to look for ‘her’ wolf.

Okay, he saw me. And the wolf. Maybe not dead. Crazy is still an option, though.

Once Emma is at the door, the wolf merely stares at her.

“Knock?” another nod.

So, Emma knocks. The dulcet tones of a woman float “Come in, I’ve been expecting you both.”

Taking a deep breath, Emma opens the door to a massive library. Books line shelves from floor to ceiling on all three walls. A quick glance reveals comfy looking chairs, a couch, fireplace, several desks with chairs, plants, a massive rug and a smiling, finely dressed seated woman.

“Don’t just stand there, come in.” Not an order, sort of teasing. Clearly addressing the wolf “Red, did you take this one’s tongue as well?”

“Umm, no. Red? Is it? I still have my tongue. My sanity is in question, though.” Emma forces words out of her mouth but her feet remain rooted to the threshold. Until Red pushes through to circle around the chair the woman is in several times before laying down with its muzzle on her feet.

In the library mostly, Emma takes one more step then is unsure whether to close the door or not. Tilting her head at the door and raising an eyebrow the woman motions for Emma to close it. Which she does but doesn’t move further into the room.

“You can come in, you know.”

“I’m all bloody and in the Queen’s Library with a wolf so I think I’ll just stay over here.” Said all in a rush.

“And nervous. I don’t suppose telling you it is okay, to relax will work. Here, I’ll come to you.” The woman stands and moves the chair towards Emma. “Just going to get us another chair so we can be comfortable while we chat.”

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude but I’m also not going to soil one of the Queen’s chairs.” Her voice calm and steady but her hands are clenched tightly behind her back.

“Okay, yes, I see your point.” Setting the second chair by the first. Turning to the wolf “Red would you?”

Quick as a flash of lightening Red sprints off into ?the wall?

Watching Emma’s eyes follow Red, the woman chuckles when they comically widen in disbelief. “No, there is a passage for certain wolves. You are not seeing things. And I do believe I forgot to introduce myself. I am Belle, the Queen’s Librarian.” The stunning smile disarms Emma’s defenses.

“Pleased to meet you. I am called Emma.” Offering a smile in return.

Belle sits. “While we are waiting for Red to return, tell me Emma, where are you from?”

“Here and there. I move around a lot, looking for work.”

“I see. I sort of did for a while as well. Do you get to see your parents?”

“Umm, no. Or maybe. I don’t know who my parents are. I was found abandoned by a tree as an infant and different families took me in when they could. When things didn’t work out, I would try to find another family. So I moved around a bit until I was old enough to take care of myself.”  All stated matter of fact. But her eyes warned Belle not to press further.

“Okay. If I may ask, how old are you?”

“I don’t know that either. I think around 30 summers.” Shrugging her shoulders, Emma lets her gaze wander to the books.

“Yes, we have lots of books here.” Belle says like she is answering a question. “I just love to read and learn new things. Do you read?”

“I can read a little bit. And write some too, to answer your next question. Basic math, for the next.” Smirking at Belle’s oh-shit-I’m-caught face. “Now, may I ask some questions as well?”

“Yes, of course. I’d be happy to answer any questions I am able to.” Wary but still friendly.

“Why was I healed? Who is the man dressed in all black that scares the soldiers and is a Captain? Why did wolves join the group I was sent with to the archery course? And they are not just wolves, are they. They are shape-changers. And, finally, why am I here? In the castle?” Still maintaining a calm tone but her stress level is beginning to show.

Suddenly, Red is back. With a neatly folded towel clamped in its teeth. Sitting in front of Emma looking all proud of its self.

Emma takes ahold of the towel “Thank you, Red. I bet you are a girl. And I further bet you frightened a maid or something to get that for me. Thanks again.” Spreading the towel on the seat, Emma carefully perches herself on the edge.

“Thank you.” Belle gives Red a radiant smile then leans over and scratches her ears. “You were right, Emma is smart. She caught me trying to weasel information out of her. And she figured out about you, too. Do you want to get changed?”

Red shakes her head, curls up and lays down at Belle’s feet again.

“I know nothing about you being healed, so I can’t help you there. But the man you described sounds like Captain Graham, of the Queen’s Guard. A handpicked unit, by the Queen herself. He is not to be trifled with. What I have seen, he is firm but fair. I don’t know why wolves were on the field, but I can guess. Someone was cheating. Most likely with an enchanted charm of some sort. My Red can sense some magic. Since she brought you here, it was not you. You are here, with me, as you guessed so that we can find out more about you. You scored well at all the stations. Kept your mouth shut, obeyed instructions, put your dishes away and were bold enough to ask for more water. So either you are the type of person the Queen wants in Her army or are a spy.”

Before Emma can respond, there is a knock on the door accompanied by a loud voice “Tea!”

Belle rises and bids them to enter.

A harried looking woman from the kitchen staff enters, places a tray on the nearest desk, bows and leaves quickly.

“I am no spy” Emma states firmly “but I suppose a spy would say that.” Finishing with a sigh, her brow furrowed in thought.

“Tea?” Belle asks and Red’s tail thumps on the floor. Moving to the tray, Belle pours a saucer full and places it on the floor. “It’s hot, be careful this time.”  Pouring two cups, adding honey to one, Belle extends one towards Emma “Emma, tea?”

Emma takes the cup and saucer, still trying to think of a way to prove she is not a spy, distractedly sipping.

Red is sort of huffing at the saucer, trying to cool it down so she can drink it and Belle retakes her seat, placing a plate of cookies on Emma’s knee.

Taking another sip of tea, Emma looks up into Belle’s eyes. They are shrewd, waiting for something.

“There is something in my tea, isn’t there?” Emma bites out.

“Yes, Emma. There is. Are you a spy?”

“No.”

“Good. Have a cookie.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Emma was born and abandoned in the Enchanted Forrest, now looking for work

The Queen’s Army

Chapter 3

 

“Did you lie when answering my questions before tea?”

“No.”

“Do you intend on harming the Queen in any way?”

“No.”

“Have you ever used a surname?”

“When forced to, I use the last name of the first family that took me in. Swan.” But it was clear that Emma did not want this line of questioning to continue, hands curled up into tight fists on her lap, eyes squeezed shut like she was trying to not relive the memories the mention of the name brought up.

Not wanting to force Emma to reveal something she was not comfortable with Belle asked “Do you like the cookies?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Were you raised in this kingdom?”

“I think I was found in Midas’ kingdom.”

“Why didn’t you stay...” seeing Emma tense up Belle redirects the question “Were else have you lived?”

“King George’s Kingdom, Snow White & Charming’s Kingdom and here.”

“You did mention you moved around a lot. So, why here?”

“At first it was getting shuffled around with so-and-so might be able to take me in, then it was where I could find work.” Belle could see the truth serum was trying to have Emma say something more. In her effort not to speak Emma was literally biting her lips, drawing blood. But the serum won out “Looking for home.”

“How old were you when you struck out on your own?”

“Ten summers, or so.”

“Why try for the Queen’s Army?”

“I’m no good at so-called woman’s work, not good enough to do it for someone else. I can fight with a sword or my hands, I like horses and they generally like me, I learned to shoot a running rabbit to eat…I don’t like the idea of being a bandit, although I have stolen to survive. I’d rather have honorable work. This comes with food and board.”

“I mean, why the **Evil** Queen. Why not a different kingdom?”

“While I have no personal experience with any royalty, I have heard plenty of stories. If I never hear the story of Snow White and Prince Charming again I will die happy. The entire kingdom is Snow White this and Prince Charming that, balls and festivals, gowns and jewelry and hairstyles…it’s sickly sweet and sets my teeth on edge. Midas, for all his wealth, is a penny pinching miser to his people. George isn’t much better and much crueler. As for the **Evil** Queen? Ever notice it’s the supposed good guys who cry foul? The kingdoms who don’t get to be allies or secure a trade deal or get what they want seem to perpetuate the Evil stories. Let’s not even talk about a strong woman who rules with the ‘benefit’ of a man. There are at least two sides to every story and I don’t think the Queen has been allowed to tell hers.”

“I see. Well. I do believe that is all the questions I have. Let us see if the potion has worn off.” Belle pinches the fabric of her light blue dress. “Try to lie about the color of my dress, please.”

“RrrBlue.”

“Not yet. Would you care for some unspiked tea? More fluid will wash it out of your system quicker.”

“Yes, please.”

Belle flashes a reassuring smile, rises and crosses to the desk. Pouring a fresh cup of tea “I had hoped you were here for moral purposes, Red is usually a very good judge of character.”

Turning and handing the tea to Emma, Belle kneels down to scratch Red behind her ears again. This time when Emma meets Belle’s eyes there is just friendliness. Emma drinks the tea as quickly as she can.

Reseating herself, Belle asks “Ready to try again? What color is my dress?”

“Green. It is clearly a yellow dress.” Relieved at the ability to lie, Emma’s shoulders relax. “So what happens now?”

“Red will escort you back to the training field where you will be assigned a cot for the night in a temporary tent. The evening meal will be served like lunch but closer. I would recommend getting a good nights’ sleep as tomorrow your real training will likely start.”

As both women rise from their seats, Belle extends her hand “I was a pleasure to meet you, Emma. Please forgive me for the potion, even though it was necessary.”

Taking the proffered hand in her own and shaking it “I understand, I expected precautions and no forgiveness is required as you were doing your duty. I do appreciate that you did not take advantage of my inability to lie. The pleasure was all mine, Belle.”

Looking for Red who was just at Belle’s feet, Emma sees her waiting at the door. “Lead on, Red.”

* * *

The next two weeks were a blur of waking before the sun to run until there was only one recruit still able to move at all, followed by either hand to hand combat, armed combat with various weapons or mounted combat also with various weapons until well after midday. Once the instructors decided they all had been beaten up enough a hurried meal of jerky and hard biscuits was a welcome respite. It could have been anything, really, that you could carry in a small pouch fixed around your waist that wouldn’t get squashed or yucky after all the running and combat. Emma determined early that bananas were not a good idea and that apples hurt like hell to fall on. Jerky and biscuits were the easiest, not the most tasty. A barrel of water for washing up with as well as drinking was always provided.

The afternoons brought one on one training with an instructor for archery. No more fixed hay targets, though. Galloping around the forest trying to hit whatever target the instructor named. Well, screamed. On foot loading and firing a long bow as quickly and accurately as possible at targets that “popped” into view. Turns out they were rigged with ropes and pulleys and if you weren’t careful the unlucky soldiers on rope detail would get nicked. Emma made a mental note to avoid rope detail if at all possible. And as bellies were growling for the evening meal, crossbow practice. Another run back to the main training field for supper. A real meal. A meat dish of either venison, pork, chicken or fish. Vegetables. Fresh bread. Fruit. And all the water you wanted. By the time supper was over, the sun was four fingers from touching the horizon.

The quiet time following supper was Emma’s favorite. As the only female recruit, she was still alone in a small tent but being by herself was nothing new. What was new was the luxury of a bath with heated water, a cake of soap and multiple, clean towels.

Humming to herself as she makes her way to her tent and her own barrel of water, Emma thinks about the day and any new techniques she has learned, cataloging the mistakes.  

Waiting for the water to heat in a pot over a small fire, her thoughts turn to returning to the tent on her second night in training. It was obvious that someone had been in the tent looking over her meager possessions. The satchel containing her grooming items, undergarments and few items of clothing had been moved slightly. The clothes were not folded the way they were and her hair brush, tooth brush and powder were not on top like they should have been. The sheets and one blanket had been stripped and the cot remade. Emma knows exactly how she left the tent and experience tells her it has been thoroughly searched. For what, she has no idea. The only things of any value are the dagger and a necklace with a silver circle charm. The only two possessions that never leave her person.

Attention back in the present, the water is boiling gently. Using a folded up towel, Emma removes it from the fire, walks into her tent and empties the pot into the bathtub. Even though it will take several trips to the barrel, fire and bathtub a hot bath in the tub is an indulgence Emma is not ready to trade for more sleep.

* * *

 

Captain Graham knocks once, smartly, and waits to be bid entry.

“Come in, Captain.” The Queen’s voice, low and musical, sounds like it comes from behind him. Long used to the Queen projecting her voice from any object, he pushes open one of the heavy, black doors to enter the outer chamber of the Queen’s private quarters.

Seeing his Queen sitting at the briefing table, sipping from a goblet while looking over a scroll, he quickly closes the door and strides to the table, bowing deeply before taking his customary seat.

“Have you eaten yet, Captain?” her eyes never leaving the scroll.

Knowing the question was more than idle chatter, the Captain answered “I have not yet had the opportunity, Your Majesty.”

With a wave of her hand plates laden with food appear before them both, forks balanced precariously.

“My thanks to you, as always My Queen.”

Sitting quietly until the scroll is pushed away and the Queen begins to pick at her plate, Captain Graham rises to refill their goblets from the decanter. Retaking his seat he notices that the Queen is rearranging her food rather than eating.

“May I know what is troubling you ma’am?”

“I am not prepared to discuss this with you” slightly frowning, gesturing to the scroll “however, I am ready for your report.”

“Yes, ma’am. As you already know the training field reported detecting magical energy but was unable to determine the source immediately, in part due to the number of people moving about. The recruit who was in fact a spy under a glamor spell was detected first and dealt with. The recruit who was using a charm to aid his strength was escorted out of Your Kingdom. When the incident occurred at the sword play station, it became evident that the major source of magic was unaware that she even had or could use magic. Neither the field nor the healer sent could “see” or feel active magic. The healer, when pressed, could only explain that it had to have been passive or instinctive magic.”

“I recall you telling me the wounds were lethal before you asked for permission to have the pack investigate.” Her mind occupied with thoughts of magic, the Queen began to actually eat instead of pushing food around her plate.

“The shoulder damage alone would have incapacitated most. Coupled with the neck wound, which bled much less than it should have, only the strongest would have survived much less stand their ground and take out their opponent.”

“Speaking of, the foolish soldier who brandished the dagger was unable to keep his tongue from wagging. His constant complaining about your corrective actions, losing his dagger, and the female recruit cheating reached my ears. You know I do not tolerate whiners. I am sure he is enjoying the reassignment as a scarecrow.” Eyes devoid of emotion the Queen continued, “When his body is nothing but bones, you may have them buried somewhere in the forest.”

“Yes, ma’am. The seven members of the pack could sense low intensity magic only when they surrounded the recruit. Red described the feeling as “dormant but powerful.” None could feel active use of magic at the archery course. Red has been shadowing the recruit the past two weeks and reports only the low intensity, like a hum, since you amplified her ability to sense magic.” Noticing that the Queen’s plate was empty the Captain pulls the bowl of fruit closer, selecting an apple for himself.

“Have the agents sent to check her story reported back yet?” Picking her own apple and slicing it into quarters.

“Her movements have been traced through the Kingdoms as reported. No indications of magic use have been recounted. Menial jobs for the most part. It would appear that the first family that took her in as an infant kept her until she was around three summers or so. This older couple, surname Swan, allowed their newly widowed daughter to move back in. As she had an infant of her own, they did not want the foundling any longer. It seems that the child, Emma, was named by the embroidered blanket she was found wrapped up in. Emma then spent her next seven summers or so being passed around from family to family. There have been some allegations of physical and mental abuse but no formal charges were ever brought. Belle indicated that Emma is intelligent but no school records have been uncovered. Former employers state that their only issue with Emma was occasional tardiness. Although theft was mentioned during the truth serum tea no accusations have been mentioned nor arrests. Barring new information, I would say this recruit is a keeper.”

“Is that your official recommendation, Captain?” the teasing tone accompanied with smirk.

“Yes ma’am, it is. I replaced the usual trainers with members of Your Guard and they all are impressed with Emma. She learns and adapts quickly. Retains information and applies it correctly. She doesn’t speak much but when she does it is with pertinent questions or observations. Takes care of the gear she picked out on the first day. Keeps the tent and her possessions neat and clean. No refusing to follow orders, no complaints, no horsing around. She seems dedicated, interested and to some degree passionate about learning all forms of combat and strategies. I also recommend her for Your Guard.”

“High praise, coming from you Captain. I do not recall you ever recommending a _recruit_ for My Guard.” Pausing for a sip from her goblet, the Queen wonders aloud, “What about her down time?”

“Emma has struck up a sort of friendship with the morning cook, Granny. Emma arrives early to the field kitchen and helps out a bit while eating a piece of fruit. They chat about the weather or what is for supper, nothing personal. I doubt that Emma knows that Granny and Red are related. Emma packs herself a lunch of jerky and the day old biscuits Granny saves for her. After training all day, Emma eats supper then goes to the tent where she typically takes a bath, cleans her clothing and the gear before sleeping a few hours.”

“I will keep this recruit in mind. Thank you, Captain. Good night.” Dismissing Captain Graham and turning to reach for the next scroll.

Rising from his seat only to bow deeply “My thanks to you, My Queen, as always.”

 

* * *

 

Earlier than usual Emma is awake. A dream. The dream, really. Home, safety, love, commitment, happiness, purpose all right there. Emma can see it, taste it, smell it, feel it. Just a bit further, the warmth of being wanted, loved just out of reach. Teasing her fingertips. Straining with every fiber of her being to touch, to have, to hold. And gone, in a blink of an eye. Cold, empty nothingness. Yet again, all she can give is still not enough.

Knowing sleep will not return, Emma readies herself for another day. Brushes the tangles out of her hair before pulling it back into a pony tail. Face washed and teeth brushed, she makes her cot and heads out to see what Granny is up to.

Grabbing an apple Emma sees Granny struggling to wrangle a large pot off the table. Biting into the apple and holding it with her teeth, Emma hurries over to nudge Granny away with her hip. Picking up the pot, she waits for instructions. Granny motions Emma over to the fire grate.

Before Emma can even move towards the fire, she hears her name called.

“Swan, get over here.”

Quickly taking the pot to the fire, apple forgotten in her mouth “OhshitGrannyI’vegottago.”

“Yeshsir” Its only when she see the instructors puzzled face that the apple is hastily bitten through and removed.

“There has been some trouble with a new horse at the stables. One trainer is dead, one is injured and the remaining trainer, hands, and stable boys refuse to go in. You go sort it out and make a determination if the horse needs to be put down.”

On the way to the stables Emma wonders if this is another test. Sure, I’m good with horses but the Queen has to have more experienced horsemen here. Especially more trusted than an unknown recruit. What did the trainer do that got him/her killed? And a hand hurt? Trainers and hands know horses….this is a test, has to be. And calling the multiple barns, training rings, outbuildings and other whatnot simply ‘the stables’ is an understatement of epic proportions.

Arriving at the stables, seeing a group of people standing around Emma heads towards them listening to the discussion in progress.

“crazy horse in barn 3 is evil, I tell you”

“caught poor jake in the head”

“black cats and black horses are bad luck”

Not breaking stride, Emma veers off to barn 3. Once inside, it is easy to find the black horse that the people outside were talking about, presumably the one she was sent to evaluate, as there is only one horse in the barn.

“Hey there…my, you are gorgeous…and big…why do you have a bridle on…” Emma starts talking as soon as the horse sees her. Slow, steady steps, calm voice with her arms by her sides. “Are you having a bad day? Do you not like it here? Got an entire barn to yourself, that doesn’t seem too bad to me. But maybe you are lonely, huh. I’ve got an apple here, I only took one bite…you hungry?” So far so good. Big black horse just standing there watching, ears forward…good, good. Oops, too close-tail swishing and fore hoof stomp. “Oh, okay. I’ll just stand here for a bit until you get used to me. They left a cinch or something on you? Whatever for…maybe the trainer was saddling you? Maybe, that might explain the bridle. Wish you would tell me what is wrong. You are so…” leaning slightly to the right and down a little “handsome, there big guy. Say, what about that apple? Here let me show you. See? Apple. It was going to be my breakfast but you can have it.” Taking one step forward and waiting for a reaction. “You don’t smell that apple now, do you? You want it?” Ah, a nicker. Now we are getting somewhere. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, the horse intently watching Emma reach for the apple in her waist pouch. “Okay, here is the deal. I have to take that bridle off so you can have the apple. You understand? I am not teasing you. You get the apple but first the bridle, okay?” Apple in one hand, the other hand reaching for the crown of the bridle between the horse’s ears. “Don’t fight me, big guy…thats a boy…see? I’m not going to hurt you, lets get this thing off. Okay, boy…open up for me. Don’t wanna smack your teeth with the bit…there. All done. Here you go, one apple. While you munch on that can I touch you? Yes? Let me see…ears are okay…eyes look good…well that didn’t take long, all finished? Well I am not. Let me see this here hoof, big guy…thata boy…now this one…its not my fault you have four feet…cooperate now…what a good boy you are…now, you ready? I wanna take that cinch thingy off…ouch, damn it…stupid thing has burrs on it…shit that hurts…is that what happened to you boy?  Got any burrs under here? Hey, quit shoving there big nose…well, this cinch or whatever is going into the burn pile, I assure you of that…wonder how long you had to put up with that shit. Sorry boy…not really a cinch at all since went all the way around you…who put that on you, boy? Did that happen here? Yes? No? No matter. You wait here while I go get a curry comb and a brush…damn burrs are mean… 

* * *

 

The Queen watched and listened to the entire exchange between the recruit and her new horse Rocinante. Perhaps a reassignment to the stables were in order…


End file.
